The Wise And The Strong
by sunnyclydethegenius
Summary: The legend of Gendel and Gorne- as told by Ygritte and Jon in a cave during the time when not everybody was dead. But the story runs deeper than that. Jon Snow may know nothing, but there are some details that even Ygritte cannot even begin to recall.


**The Wise And The Strong**

**I just tried abbreviating the title to make it shorter but it came out as TWATS. That wasn't intentional.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own A Song Of Ice And Fire or Artemis Fowl though how much I would love to yadda yadda yadda (cracks some overused joke of how I am secretly George Martin and Eoin Colfer's secret love child they made in a hotel room after some really intense party last september)**

Beckett

He watched his brother in silence, leaning his elbows on the rock that served as their table- for that night at least. His drinking horn was nearly empty, though it was just water anyway, the wine reserves had run out a long time ago. Beckett wondered how long it would take his brother to admit defeat.

The thief was bright in the sky that night, and it shone down on the free folk like a lantern in a dungeon. The retreat from the wall was long and tiring, so the group had stopped within a ring of trees, so tall that they blocked out the moonlight, yet so close that they held the wind at bay. It was what they needed on a night such as this one.

"You know we are never going to get past them." He told Myles, " they have the wall, and thousands of men."

"Yet there are millions of us!" He snapped back. "I just don't understand." He held his face in his hands, exasperated. "Why aren't we winning?"

"You know just as well as I, the free folk are not soldiers. They are in disarray. Discipline always overcomes numbers," Beckett stroked his tired brother's face with light fingertips, making him look up at his eyes, "If we could somehow train them," he suggested, "I could show them how to wield a spear or shoot an arrow, you could teach them strategies and tactics. The crows could never stop us."

"But they are not slaves!" Myles argued, "You know as well as I that as soon as we start offering them lessons they will abandon us to find someone more accepting. They are free folk and they owe us nothing."

He stood up, knocking over his drinking horn. A lazy trickle of water ran over the surface of the rock before collecting in a tiny crevice. Beckett stood it back upright whilst Myles pulled his sheepskin cloak tighter over his shoulders, to stop the cold air from creeping in. "We can talk when the sun rises. We have a long journey ahead of us, and I need to think."

"Where are we headed?"

"I... I don't know."

Beckett nodded his head, and watched as his twin strode gracefully through the sleeping huddles towards the rock where their own tent stood- in a place of honor above the people he had sworn to protect.

Beckett had never wanted to be a king; he was quite content with being a respected warrior and letting his brother make all of the hard decisions. They weren't born into royalty, the free folk don't work like that- they don't follow a name, only a fighter- though their ancestors had been greatly respected.

It had all started in the great famine, when no crops would grow and no trees would bear fruit. No animals would leave their nests, not even the wildcats would come down from the tall mountains to find prey. Eusebius the foul disguised himself as a crow, dressed in black, and pretended to be a lost ranger from Shadow Tower. He deceived his way into the Eastwatch by the sea, and in the dead of night, he took a trading ship all the way to Skagos and back again, with decks full of food for the free folk- or so the legend said.

Apparently he only slayed twelve men in the course of the night, yet he still earned the nickname Eusebius the Foul- his good deed was born of trickery and deceit- though the people took it lightheartedly because they were no longer hungry.

Then,of course, there was Artemis the first of his name. Beckett had heard that once, on a cold winters night long ago, only sixteen years after Artemis' name day, alone with only his uncle's wife and a dead mans child, he was confronted by a monstrous, rabid, black bear. Eight foot tall it must have been, yet Artemis had defeated it with only his bare hands. He had been called Artemis the Bearsbane.

The line of heroes had broken with their elder brother, Artemis, son of Artemis. He had started of with great potential, he was ten times more intelligent than Myles, yet braver than Beckett and his father put together, he had been told. Then he had gone mad. He believed that the children of the forest had never died out,only retreated further north. Away from the land of the first men where they were no longer safe, and they still could be found if a man was to search hard enough.

Artemis had plotted to steal one from it's home and ransom it back for the secrets of magic, only, when he found one, he was so entranced by her that he fell in love.

Torn by the choice of staying with his family and village- where he belonged- or going with the children to see the unknown, he had ran away, never to be seen again.

Artemis the Broken. That was what they had called him.

Beckett was tired. The long days of walking and climbing the wall had turned his arms and legs into blocks of stone.. It had taken all of his effort just to sit upright whilst talking to his brother. They had lost twenty men whilst climbing ; good men who had fallen one hundred feet before being crushed by a ton of ice. It had been Myles who called back the survivors. "The wall defends itself!" he had yelled at anybody foolish enough to to want to carry on, "It is too unstable whilst the wall is weeping. We cannot afford to lose more men before the time is right."

Beckett decided to follow his brother's lead and headed towards the tent before he collapsed where he sat. The sky had gotten darker as the clouds had tightened above their camp, making it hard to avoid stepping on the remains of campfires or sleeping bodies.

Blinded by the near pitch-blackness, Beckett stumbled over a bundle of blankets landing flat on his back. Lying down in the snow, he felt that he could sleep right there, right then, under the stars. And why shouldn't he, it didn't seem so hard for everyone else. Royalty was changing him into a completely different person.

Through the darkness, he could just make out a mop of dark, tangled hair and a pair of bright green eyes.

"If y'wanted me y' could just tell me so,"

Beckett realised he was staring, he blushed and looked away. "My apologies, miss, I... I've had a long day..."

"Oslin, my name is Oslin."

I've had a long, tiring day Oslin, and haven't we all? My name is Beckett, son of Artemis."

"The Bearsbane, yes. I am fully aware of who you are, Beckett, son of Artemis." Oslin st up, revealing the hunting leathers wrapped around her shoulders and breast. The winter was cold and harsh, meaning everybody wore whatever they could both day and night. The snow glistened in her hair like a million tiny diamonds glittering under the light of the stars. She brushed it back from her face with a gloved hand. "You don't look as impressive from up close, Beckett, son of Artemis."

He had to laugh."Well, I am much more confident with a spear in my belt and arrows on my back."

Oslin smiled, "Very well, your grace."

Beckett went back to blushing again."Please, call me Beckett."

"Millions of people would give anything t'be addressed as Your Grace, Beckett, son of Artemis. Why not you?"

"I am not a leader. Give that job to my brother any day."

"Yet he would be nothing without you."

"And I without him," he grimaced " It is our weakness."

"And your strength. Use it well, Beckett, son of Artemis."

He gazed at the wildling woman in silence, before nodding his head, sleepily. "Very well. I shall. Sleep well, will need your energy. We have long days to come."

"And you, Beckett, son of Artemis. You most of all." She pulled the sleeping skin back up over her head and shoulders, blocking out the fresh sprinkle of snow that had just begun to drift from the sky. Beckett watched it swirl through the air around him, before stumbling through the sea of bodies to find his own place for the night, where he could finally curl up into a ball and forget everything.

**How was that for a prologue? (and that isn't a rhetorical question- I actually do want some reviews. All you readers out there who don't give me any feedback shall rot in hell forever without any pizza) I'm pretty sure it was long enough, people are always telling me off for writing too little.**

** Anyways, thanks for reading;)**


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